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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24026230">sunshine boy, (you) take my breath away</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finally_Home/pseuds/Finally_Home'>Finally_Home</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, Reflection, Smoking, college student shim, descriptive, gang member(?) yunho, kyuhyun makes a few appearances, no dialogue tags, rated t for smoking, strawberries and cigarettes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:19:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,049</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24026230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finally_Home/pseuds/Finally_Home</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He tasted like strawberries.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jung Yunho/Shim Changmin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sunshine boy, (you) take my breath away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mw5mAozjC6M">troye sivan - strawberries and cigarettes</a>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho was the one who taught him how to smoke. Tap the pack against your palm - to pack it, he’d said - then shake one out, hold it between your teeth, and light her right up. He remembers he’d choked on the smoke, nearly suffocated as the back of his throat and nose burned, but Yunho only laughed, ran a warm hand down his back, and said with a kiss to his hair, you’ll get used to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did, but so did Yunho. He grew accustomed to his constant presence and soon, it lost interest for him. Jung Yunho never wanted something that came so easily, like a moth to the flame. He suspects it’s part of the thrill, the cat-and-mouse chase and the danger of being caught, the animalistic prey-to-predator instinct, the dodging of law enforcement, the rebellion against society. Yunho found some twisted entertainment in it, played the game and navigated the darkness like a fish to water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s too late to think about that now, too late to change anything, and even if he could, he wouldn’t. He sighs, steps out onto the high balcony overlooking the city lights, away from the bright and bustling party in the ballroom behind him. Yunho smoked flavored cigarettes, a hint of syrupy sweetness amongst the tobacco, the faintest tint of pink to the smoke underneath the sun. He could never get used to the taste, but he sure got used to the smell, the unique scent of artificial strawberry flavoring swirling in the aromatic musk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changmin, he hears someone call. Changmin, this is your party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What does it matter? He waves a hand, and his best friend joins him at the railing. Beneath them, Seoul glitters, a mass of twinkling yellow stars scattered in the vast nothingness of the night. Kyuhyun holds out a hand, and Changmin gives him the entire pack. Camel, an American brand. Expensive, and the kind that Kyuhyun doesn’t like. He grunts but takes one anyway, slipping the rest back into Changmin’s pocket, fishing out his lighter instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a shitty one, the plastic kind that can be found on the countertop of any old general store. He hadn’t kept Yunho’s lighter when he left, had instead given it away to some relative or another, but he can still feel the cold metal burning on his skin, still remembers the curves and lines of all the constellations carved on the back, the distinct shape and feel of Cassiopeia. Yunho’s favorite, he remembers. He watches Kyuhyun light up, fingers curled protectively around the tiny flame, the warm glow of the fire illuminating the bottom half of his face. The tip of the cigarette barely grazes fire, but smoke rises anyway, and Kyuhyun sighs, letting the flame drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His one spot of warmth in the cold. Changmin turns back to the night. Yunho hadn’t cared for such delicacies. If he wanted a light, he’d have a light, and the lighter better damn work. When Jung Yunho wanted a light, even the rain would stop for him, and if it didn’t, the fire would brave through and give him what he wanted anyway, no matter how much Changmin bet otherwise. He was like the god of fire, walked into the pouring rain with a damp cigarette in his mouth, a flimsy little lighter against all the wrath of nature, but he’d flick it and the flame would appear, touch it and the smoke would curl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time and time again, Changmin would lose his bet, and Yunho would pull him in - sometimes by the wrist, most times by the waist - take both their cigarettes between his fingers, and press their lips together. The smoke lingered and mingled in their mouths until Changmin could no longer tell whose scent was whose, and he’d always pull away breathless. Every time, every time, and Yunho would only grin devilishly, the corner of his mouth tilting up, and remind him that a bet was a bet, and he was only collecting his payment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A car honks on the street, and Changmin drops his cigarette. The glowing tip slices through the night, carves out a red scar in the endless darkness. Kyuhyun hisses in pity, but Changmin barely hears him. They’d started out in a car, him and Yunho, began and ended it in a smoke-filled taxi. The first time he met him, Changmin was a lost college student, a broke freshman who missed the last bus back to campus and resolved to walk home alone in the dark. The cab had pulled up right next to him then, the driver jabbing a thumb at the backseat, and Changmin was sure he was getting abducted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Said he’d pay fer ya, the driver grunted, and the head peeking out from the back window flashed a smile, eyes crinkling like sunshine, and Changmin thought suddenly that it’d be worth getting scammed for him. But Yunho did already cover the cost of his fare, and when he shyly scooted into the seat, hesitating a little at the smell of cigarette smoke, Yunho scooted closer - even then, strawberries permeated his entire being - stuck out a hand, and said, I’m Yunho.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rarely ever took taxis after that. It was just too expensive, even for king-of-the-streets Yunho, and it wasn’t like they needed to anyway. For them, the time was always ripe - for anything, really, but mostly for danger, and Yunho warned him away, said you’d best not get involved with me, but Changmin knew he was too far gone, would follow him to the ends of the world and his life, had known since the smile he gave that night. Yunho smiled, silently allowing him to stay, and when he turned away to other matters, all Changmin could do was smile at his back and know that he was in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho tasted like strawberries, an intoxicating mix of the fake sugary stuff and the fresh real ones. He knows this because they’d been watching each other one night, by the river, watching the smoke rise from their mouths into the harsh white streetlights lining the street, and Changmin’s eyes kept drifting to Yunho’s lips, wondering how they would feel on his, wondering what he would taste like, wondering if there could ever be something, anything, more between them, because it would be worth it, it would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, Changmin learned what Yunho tasted like, what it felt to have that perfect mouth on his, how it felt being pulled in by the neck and those soft lips crash into his. Yunho’s lips were a bit chapped, still tasted like the hotpot they’d had right before, but mainly, he tasted like smoke, the sultry addictiveness of tobacco, and his ever-beloved strawberries, sweet and tart and saccharine, and it made him dizzy, dizzy with love and want and the knowledge of what they might be, could be, after this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was worth it after all. It was worth it, the nicotine addiction, the rapid decline of his grades, the fights with the street rats, it was all worth it for Jung Yunho. Changmin would have done anything for him, would have dropped out, joined the gang, but Yunho had enough shame, at least, to stop him from doing any of that. Instead, he kissed him in the dark corners of hidden alleyways, pressed him against dirty brick, pinned his hands against the wall and kissed him, long and slow but deep and desperate, needy, and it was really no surprise when he dropped to his knees on the cold concrete and unzipped Changmin’s jeans, engulfed him in a hot, wet warmth that made him cry out and shove his hand into his mouth to keep from being caught, and it was also no surprise that Yunho only grinned and swallowed and tucked him back in, and when they kissed again, he tasted like Changmin, and a tent had sprung in his own pants, and Changmin reached down and touched him, ghosted his fingers along his hot length for payback, and Yunho collapsed against his shoulder, panting into his collarbone, and cursed when he came, shaking like a leaf in the wind, vulnerable but beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beautiful. That’s what Changmin remembers most about Jung Yunho, how bright and beautiful and warm he was. He wasn’t a good person, not really, but he was, at least to Changmin. He took their hands together and entwined their fingers, combed his fingers through long messy hair, and he remembers running all over the city, sometimes hiding, sometimes not, but having fun regardless, and it was a testament to God how Jung Yunho laughed, throwing his head back, eyes curved into crescents, a laugh that could summon the sun. But he was the sun, attracted attention, revelled in it, though he heeded none of it, had eyes only for Changmin, would only see him in an ocean of others. And Changmin loved him, he really did, would have thrown away the world to stay with him, and he only hopes that Yunho had loved him too, at least just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But love and affection, to Jung Yunho, were ultimately just a game, and Changmin remembers the car ride back home, frosty and silent and filled with the cloying scent of Yunho’s signature cigarettes. He smoked, Changmin didn’t, and when the taxi stopped in front of his dorm, they sat in silence until the cab driver told them to get out and fuck off. Yunho didn’t move, and Changmin stepped into the night alone. He didn’t look back, was afraid of doing so, scared that he might not be able to walk away if he did, and stood looking up at the building, tears blurring the shining lights into one, until the car finally drove off. The strawberries faded, and Changmin dropped to his knees and sobbed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loved him, loved him so much, waited for him and threw away his life for him, and for what? How much was his love worth, how much did it cost, did Jung Yunho know? Did he even care? Had he ever? Changmin was a fool, a lovestruck, heartsick fool, and he deserved it, he knew, deserved all the pain and more. Jung Yunho was not a good person, and he’d known, known since the beginning, and chose to simply ignore it. He threw away all the red flags for a god of a man and reaped what he had sowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But was it worth it? Was the crashing pain worth all the laughter, all the sweetness, all the nights spent in a bed that was not his own? Was this brief encounter worth the lifelong dependence to alcohol and nicotine? Was it, Shim Changmin? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the bottom of his heart, he thinks it was. Nothing, no one, can replace Jung Yunho, his first love, the one who took his breath away through the window of a taxi, who tasted like the delicious sweet and sour of strawberries both real and fake, who cared about him and looked after him and you can’t tell me there weren’t feelings involved, he cried to Kyuhyun, you can’t, but Kyuhyun didn’t say anything and only hugged him tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never did see him again. Changmin salvaged his grades, made a name for himself through writing, and resolved to forget about the winter he was eighteen. But he never could, and everything he wrote, every character in their bare essence, shone through as the quiet charisma of the boy who broke his heart. He dated, fucked, tried to fill the gaping hole in his chest, but no one could compare to Jung Yunho.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And no one ever will. Seoul glitters in the distance, winking at him with playful lights, and Changmin straightens his back, bones popping with the movement. No one ever will, but that’s okay, because he’ll still have the memories. He’s content like this, in love with a ghost of his own past, trapped within the confines of his own mind. Kyuhyun had long since returned to the party, and he is alone once again, as he always was and always will be. No, he’ll never forget Jung Yunho, but maybe-- maybe he doesn’t want to.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Remember when we first met?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is actually my second story inspired by this song (find the first one <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22153984">here</a>) and lo and behold, it's not the best thing i've ever written, but it's the first thing i've written in weeks (because i'm, ah, procrastinating studying for finals)</p><p>i want to make it clear that i do not endorse(?) smoking, nor do i support the glorification of smoking (though i may have done it here), and no i don't smoke lol</p><p>edit: holy fuck yall i just realized my longest sentence is 153 words--</p></blockquote></div></div>
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